


L'offenseur plus cher

by ennuithereyet



Series: Découverte [3]
Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF
Genre: Angst, Beautiful Boy filming, Established Relationship, M/M, TW for eating disorders probably, Vaguely unhealthy dieting, body image issues, dieting, very slight background Armie Hammer/Elizabeth Chambers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2020-10-16
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:27:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27046462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ennuithereyet/pseuds/ennuithereyet
Summary: Armie was happy for Tim. Really, he was. Timmy had mentioned at times that he was worried he would just kind of fade out after Call Me’s popularity waned, so for him to land such a huge role opposite Steve Carrell pretty much immediately? It was amazing. It was incredible. Armie couldn’t be prouder of him, and he knew Timmy would be able to do the role justice.But.
Relationships: Timothée Chalamet/Armie Hammer
Series: Découverte [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1948588
Comments: 6
Kudos: 42





	L'offenseur plus cher

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I'm back! This isn't technically about Timmy's exploring his gender identity but it still fits into that general universe so it's part of the series, but if you haven't read the others it doesn't matter, and he identifies as a cis guy here anyway (or he hasn't really thought about it yet). 
> 
> Anyways, because this is basically all about Timmy's weight loss for Beautiful Boy, I feel it is necessary to include a Trigger Warning for people who have or have had eating disorders - the dieting here isn't explicitly unhealthy, but it's implied to be, and so I do think there's good potential for it to be triggering on that subject. Obviously, you know your own triggers best, but I wanted to warn you up front.

"Plus l'offenseur m'est cher, plus je ressens l'injure."

_The more dearly I hold the offender, the more strongly I feel the insult._

\- Jean Racine 

Armie was happy for Tim. Really, he was. Timmy had mentioned at times that he was worried he would just kind of fade out after _Call Me_ ’s popularity waned, so for him to land such a huge role opposite Steve Carrell pretty much immediately? It was amazing. It was incredible. Armie couldn’t be prouder of him, and he knew Timmy would be able to do the role justice.

But.

He was worried. He knew Timmy. He knew how Timmy sunk into a role and let it consume him. That’s what made him such an excellent actor. He was dedicated. When that character was someone like Elio, that was great. With a character like Nic… it scared Armie.

The first sign that something was off was the first night Timmy was staying with them. It had only been a couple of weeks since the press tour ended, and after so long practically living in each other’s pockets, it had felt weird to be apart, so it was only natural that Armie told Timmy to stay with him while he was in LA. 

Timmy arrived a week before filming for _Beautiful Boy_ was to start, and he showed up at Armie’s place with a suitcase and a backpack and wearing an oversized sweater despite the LA sun. Armie hugged him tight, and he thought Tim felt a bit thinner underneath the sweater, but it could just be his imagination. And then Harper came toddling up to greet Timmy, Elizabeth not far behind, and the thought left Armie’s mind completely. 

  
A little while after Timmy was settled in, he ended up lying on the floor with Harper, working on some coloring book pages together. Armie was on the couch nearby, chatting with Timmy whenever Harper wasn’t trying to dominate all of the attention (which they were plenty happy to give her). Elizabeth came in after some time. “Anything in particular you want for dinner?” she asked Tim.

Timmy’s feet, which had previously been swinging leisurely back and forth in the air while he colored, froze. He looked up, his expression intentionally casual. “I’m actually, uh, on a diet right now? So I’ll probably just handle most of my meals on my own, so it won’t be more of a hassle for you guys.”

A beat.

“A diet,” Armie echoed, none of the friendly, light tone from just a minute ago remaining in his voice. “You?”

Timmy resumed his coloring. It might have been just to have an excuse to look away. “I mean, you know what kind of role this is.” He only didn’t say it explicitly because he and Armie had talked about how Harper didn’t need to go to daycare talking about meth addicts. “Felix wants me to.”

“Has he _seen_ how skinny you already are?” Armie asked, unable to stop himself from sounding upset about this. “What weight exactly does he want you to lose? You’re already skin and bones, Tim.”

Timmy shot Armie a hard look. “I’ve discussed it plenty with the production team,” he said in an even voice. “I’ve got a nutritionist. I’m _fine_ . It’s nothing you need to worry about.” Armie could almost hear how Tim wanted to emphasize the _you,_ could read the implied _it’s not a decision that involves you, anyway._

Armie clenched his teeth and took a deep breath. “I’m not happy about this.”

Timmy was coloring again. He asked Harper to hand him a green crayon and he started filling in a section of Tiana’s dress before finally replying, “I didn’t think you would be.”

“Tim.” The boy didn’t even look up at him, but Armie continued anyway, his voice raising in an attempt to get through to the kid. “This is _insane._ Do you even ha-”

Liz cleared her throat. “Armie,” she said, and she looked pointedly at Harper. The girl was only two years old, but that was old enough to know when her dad sounded angry, and so she had started paying attention to the conversation.

Armie was too upset to make himself talk about this calmly, so he took the only other option he really had. He got up and stormed out of the room. 

He stewed in his and Liz’s bedroom for nearly half an hour before Tim knocked gently on the door and shuffled in. Maybe it was because Armie knew now that he’d been dieting, but he could swear the kid looked smaller, even with the giant sweater that - now that he thought about it - might have originally belonged to Armie. 

“Hey,” Tim said, hovering near the door like he might need an escape, or worse, that he might not be welcomed. 

“Hey,” Armie echoed, not moving from where he sat on the edge of the bed. 

They looked at each other for a long moment.

Armie sighed. “You promise you’re doing this safely?”

“Promise,” Timmy told him. “Like I said, the studio hooked me up with a nutritionist, who gave me a meal plan and everything. It’s all above board.” 

Armie nodded, taking in that information and trying to make it change how he felt about the whole thing. It didn’t work, but he had to trust Tim. “Alright,” he said. “If you promise you’re doing it safely.”

“I am,” Timmy confirmed again. He shifted his weight, and Armie realized how far away he still was. 

“C’mere.”

Timmy walked over until he was standing between Armie’s legs, and Armie placed his hands gently on the boy’s hips, like they might shatter if he held him too tightly.

“Don’t ever hurt yourself for a role, Tim, okay?” he asked, looking up at Timmy. He didn’t see him from this angle often, since he was the taller one, and Armie hoped it was the change in angle and lighting that made it look like Tim had bags under his eyes. 

“I won’t,” Timmy said softly, placing his hands on Armie’s shoulders.

“It’s not worth it,” Armie insisted. “Your health is more important. It’s the _most_ important, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Okay. Good.” Armie sighed, realizing he had done the only thing he could do to try and make sure Timmy was staying safe here. He was still anxious about the whole thing, but what else could he say? 

Timmy leaned down until their foreheads bumped together.

“You have to take care of yourself,” Armie said. “Or else I’ll have to do it for you.”

Timmy laughed, his warm breath fanning against Armie’s face. “Oh yeah?” he challenged. “You gonna tie me up and force-feed me?”

“You act like that’s a joke,” Armie said, digging his fingers into Timmy’s ticklish ribs. “But don’t you dare test me on it, Chalamet.”

Timmy tried to fight off his tickling hands, but Armie just gripped his waist instead and tackled him down onto the bed, pinning him down and taking a moment to just absorb how angelic Timmy looked with his hair spread out in a halo around his head before Armie couldn’t take it anymore, and he leaned in to kiss him. 

Later that evening, they were all sat around the dining table, burgers and fries and salad for Armie and Liz, pasta with ham and peas for Harper, and baked chicken breast and a heap of steamed broccoli for Timmy. 

“Sure you don’t want just a couple of fries, Tim?” Armie asked as he handed a fry to Harper for her to try. 

“I wish I could,” Tim said, looking enviously at Armie’s food as he shoved around some broccoli on his plate with his fork. Looking less than pleased about it, he speared a piece and ate it.

They ended up talking about various things during dinner - Liz’s bakery, current politics (though there was only so much they could talk about _that_ with an impressionable child in the room), Timmy’s family, how Harper had learned to run and therefore had become significantly more dangerous. They continued talking long after they had finished eating, until Liz mentioned that it was time to get Harper ready for bed. 

Only then, when Liz was getting Harper out of her high chair to go clean her up, did Armie notice that Timmy hadn’t even finished his meager meal. He furrowed his brow and frowned. “You’re going to finish that, right?” he asked.

Timmy looked down at his plate like he only just now realized that there was still food left. “Oh. Uh, nah, I don’t think so.”

“Tim.”

“What? I don’t want it, really.”

“Really?” Armie asked. “You swear?”

“Arms,” Timmy said, sounding a bit exasperated. “I don’t think I could swallow another bite of plain chicken and broccoli if I tried. I’m just so sick of it.”

“Then I’ll make you something else to eat.”

“Armie,” Timmy groaned, clearly annoyed.

Armie sighed. He knew Timmy didn’t want to hear him complain about the diet, and that he had decided to be okay with it, but that was when he thought Timmy was at least eating all of his meals. “Tim. You can’t just stop eating.”

“I’m _not,_ ” Timmy insisted. “I just don’t want to eat it _right now._ I’ll put it in the fridge to have it when I get hungry later, okay?” Timmy stared him down in a way that startlingly reminded Armie of arguments with his parents when he was a teen, but there was also something else there, a conviction in Timmy’s eyes that said _what can you do if I disobey anyway._

Armie worked his jaw, but couldn’t come up with a decent argument against what Timmy said, even if he still wasn’t happy. “Fine,” he conceded. 

Timmy nodded and stood up from the table like he was afraid Armie would change his mind if he stayed. He grabbed his plate and left to go pack up the leftovers.

That night, Timmy was too tired from traveling all day to do much of anything, and the next few days their schedules never lined up to give them more than a few minutes of alone time, but one afternoon a few days later he and Armie ended up having the place to themselves for a little while, so it only took a couple minutes for Timmy to go from laying on the couch with his feet in Armie’s lap as they watched TV to him straddling Armie’s lap as they made out. And it didn’t take much longer after that for Armie to grab a hold of Timmy’s ass and stand up to carry him into the guest room. Liz may be alright with what went on between Armie and Timmy, but she would freak if they did anything in the bed she and Armie shared. The guest room was closer, anyway.

Armie managed to navigate them to the guest room and only bump Timmy into a wall once, and Timmy didn’t seem to be hurt or mind in any way, given how he just continued to lick into Armie’s mouth. Armie found his way to the bed, unmade because Timmy could never manage to give enough of a fuck to do that, and he lowered Tim down, and he tried to keep kissing him but he wasn’t quite smooth enough to get all his limbs on the bed while doing so and not accidentally kneel on any part of Timmy in the process. But the separation gave him the opportunity to tug off his shirt and toss it aside, and Armie felt a flush of pride the way Timmy’s eyes raked over his bare chest. They scooted to the middle of the bed and Armie got his knees on either side of Timmy’s legs, and he slid his hands under Timmy’s sweater, easing it off the smaller man’s body.

He could immediately see the difference in Timmy’s body in just the past couple of weeks. Tim had always been skinny as a rail, and Armie had always found it kind of hot how he could put his hands around Tim’s waist and his fingers would almost touch, but despite all the “skin and bones” teasing, he’d always had some muscle on him, at least, a little bit of softness that kept him looking healthy. Now it seemed like that was gone. Armie could see every individual rib on his chest, his collar bones jutted out even more than they used to, his arms had lost all their tone.

Armie didn’t realize that he was staring in shock until Timmy reached to grab the sweater Armie still had in his hand. He pulled away, not letting Timmy take it from him, since he knew that Timmy was going to use it to hide, and Armie was still trying to process this.

“C’mon,” Timmy said, grabbing for it again unsuccessfully. “Armie, just let me-”

“Tim,” Armie sighed.

“I’ll just put it back on, it’s fine,” Timmy insisted.

“I thought you said you were being safe with this. This doesn’t look healthy.”

“I thought we were done talking about this.”

“You look sick!”

“I look like a _meth addict_ !” Timmy yelled, sitting up so he could finally grab the sweater from Armie’s hands and tug it back on to cover up. “Jesus, Armie, you _know_ what it’s like to prepare for a role.”

“There’s preparing for a role and there’s turning yourself into a corpse!”

Timmy squirmed out from underneath Armie and climbed out of bed. He ran a hand through his hair and turned towards Armie. “God, you know what?” he asked furiously. “Go fuck _yourself_ then!” 

“Tim,” Armie begged, moving towards him and reaching out, but Timmy just took a step back to avoid him. He started to realize just how much he’d pissed Timmy off here. “I’m just- I’m worried about you.”

“Leave,” Timmy said in an even voice. “Please.”

Armie’s heart broke as he saw the cold expression on Timmy’s face, and he wanted nothing more than to drop to his knees and beg Timmy to forgive him, to insist that he just wanted him to be happy and healthy, but this wasn’t about what he wanted. It may be his house they were in, but this space belonged to Timmy while he was here, and right now it was clear that Armie was a trespasser there. He grabbed his t-shirt from where it had landed on the floor and headed out, glancing back at Tim one last time, but Timmy was looking away, shoulders hunched and arms crossed. So Armie left.

He waited in the living room, anxiously perched on the couch. Timmy would come back out eventually, and they would talk, and they’d make up, and things would be better again. Everything would go back to normal.

Maybe about ten minutes later, Armie heard the door to the guest room open and Timmy came out. He turned to look over the back of the couch so Tim would know he was there so they could have their talk, but when Timmy rounded the corner, Armie saw that he was dressed like he was going out. He’d changed into jeans instead of lounge pants, and he had sneakers on, and sunglasses in hand, and a beanie shoved on his head. 

“Tim.” Armie tried to say something else, but his voice seemed stuck in his throat. All he could do was watch as Timmy strode quickly out of the house, never even once looking Armie’s way. The door slammed.

**Author's Note:**

> Please don't hate me for ending this first part this way!


End file.
